A songbird sings of morning glory,
twittering homage to Dawn's first light.
And ebony shadows fade to shade
as they lose the protection of Night.
The sun rises from a scarlet shroud,
draping itself in a golden hue.
And shining above Earth's eastern rim,
light paints the sky a robin-egg-blue.
Blood tints the clouds cotton candy pink
as the heart of Night's pierced by Dawn.
And, soon, color is fully restored;
while dew sprinkles glitter on the lawn.
Butterflies and bumblebees waken;
as a new day slowly fills with sound.
And Hope renews with every sunrise:
it's not lost; it's waiting to be found.
.
puffy
oooh so puffy
Trust you me Thick
first thing this morn
over her'z reach'd
tug'n
Lock’n mine
Claim’n herz'
thuh morn
Still though stuck
Her cute
bulgy
swole’d shut
genial
eyne
Delightful pulse of lightening and thunder,
These elements, energy empowered,
Evergreen sages transmute old wonder
With silver rain magically showered.
Lightening ignites sparkle in my wide eyes.
Thunder fills my mind with stark remembrance.
Energetic discord strikes undisguised.
Away flows eclectic dissonance!
My praise goes to sunlight in the morning!
My heart rises up to gleeful rapture!
My spirit glides high, dancing and soaring,
In Cosmic realms forever uncaptured!
Roses awaken when Earth greets Sunrise,
But Rose Crystals are cleansed under moonlight!
I rise with sun,with hope to try
I think and set,whom would be I !
I swim in sky ,all-day I breathe
I glide with birds,and songs I sing.
I laugh with sun,and talk to stars
I feel the heat,and catch the light
I play with rain,rainbow I touch
I fetch the clouds from hills & peaks.
And when I see, twilight with me
I smile and lick the orange flakes
Skyscapes I hug, farewell I bid
Then set wth Sun,and fall on land
I lay on land,I see the stars
Celestial glow and wet eyes
I miss the clouds,in sky they blow
I love the day,when I'll rise!!
The Early Morning
…… is an inspired artist
with a palette of celestial colours;
its paintbrush, brilliant sunlight.
I sit in the hub of the garden
absorbed as the sun clambers skywards,
chased by several scribbled-inked birds.
Sunrise now reaches out to anoint my house,
daubing vibrant light that glistens like gemstones
on windows, downpipes and lazed, garden furniture.
Even the washing line blinks in the morning glory
while casually tossing shadows of clothing
onto the faded backdrop of a lifeless fence.
Slowly, the morning’s lungs breathe out
and shirt, jumper, socks and trousers
start to shadow dance across the enlivened screen.
Then plants freckle themselves onto the slatted stage,
a neighbourly, mop-headed flower peeks curiously over
while an aged, garden spade stirs from its earthy reverie.
They all want to connect to the merriment,
parading in this slapstick, fashion-lit show
while the garden fence just creaks with laughter.
DAWNING ANOTHER DAY
Like sunshine of day,
Again, I have my dawning;
Glory to God:-
May divine wisdom and guidance
Lead me in labors of love.
In this day’s sojourn,
May I be a sower of
Determination:
Cultivating hope and faith
In conquering all evils:-
Use me today God,
In making this thankful day
One to be be glad in:
A day of overcoming
All trials and tribulations:-
Yeasty with a cornmealed bottom
The sun-dried tomato's and sundried
Red bell peppers called me
The parmesaned and garlic crust
topped with olives, anchovies, and
Onions
the queint essential of elegance
refined by the knead of belonging
Bacon wrapped artichokes
With a hint of lemon
Mozzarella browned to create a
delicate longing of satisfaction.
Basil, oregano, and olive oil
Enough to tease. Just enough
to taunt. Pleasing and exciting
the palettes and taste buds!
Good Morning
By Evelyn Aimarie
The sun yawns
Through the clouds
I am alone.
I am alive.
Don't believe the lies that have been said,
Do you truly think you're better off dead?
Shake that thought out of your head,
Let me tell you what is true, what is real,
My friend, you should choose to live instead.
Why do you meet the mornings with dread?
Wake up, come on, rise from your bed,
How about some breakfast so you'll be fed?
Wait at the table while I cook you a meal,
My friend, you should choose to live instead.
.
if'n yuh wanna see
mine bright
mine chameleon
mine vivid
if'n yuh wanna
remove thine
raiment
beware though mine
arcane'z lucid
suffuze
*did y'all read this write/right
')
Without a word I slip out of bed
and a thousand conversations
run through my mind
as I walk barefoot across worn carpeting.
Two nights ago, I barely made it home
while driving through a deluge
and water on the roads.
I defied the warnings
and survived
as bolts of lightning laced the sky.
I was the storm.
I was the silence.
Now as the sun pokes through
a thin veil of clouds
the sense of nothingness I embrace.
I must admit a year ago I loved someone.
She said that she loved my humor
my new stories and poems
and there was so much to share.
Now she’s a memory lingering in my heart.
This is my life, I say when alone.
This is what I’ve made it
as I watch a shadow dance on the wall—
it can be anything.
My chest ached the other day
when I bore the weight of humanity
while working at a grocery store.
Customers and I talked and traded jokes
but as the day wore upon me
I longed to be in my time and place.
A housemate downstairs
shuffles through the kitchen
while I sit in my loft and play with words
longing to say what’s never been said.
Good morning America.
Today, July 4, 2025, I looked out of my front window,
and at 6AM saw a most beautiful sky. Locked into
this eastern canopy was a very eye-catching
coloration, reminding me of the colors of the
American flag.
Yes, America, like our flag, it was red, white, and blue.
No, there were no stars and strips, but I could not help
but think heavily of you.
The grounds were lased with green grasses, and crops
of grain were heavily covered with dew. But the eastern
sky was very distinctly red, white, and blue.
America, this was a first for me in that I had never seen
such canopy colors and gave honoring thoughts of you
at the same time. It was indeed a momentous experience
for me.
And so, America, I close by saying, my heart and thoughts
are whispering warm prayers for you on this 4th of July.
Outside the trees are called
by the Autumn’s breeze.
The door isn’t perfectly shut
as the leaves seep through
the uneven cracks.
The whistling tune from
Nature’s broken karaoke
machine finds its way under
the door. Slowly the shadows
become dimmer as the morning
sun sets in and the birds begin
to chirp as the crickets causes
a ruckus enough to wake
the subconscious mind from
sleeping internally.
The couch as always hard
as a stone bruising my arms
and legs as I flail finding rest,
but consistently remains
courteous as my only true
companion who knows
me and my heart, becoming
a good friend. The bells
chime, the cars honk,
the sounds of the people
marching to and from
their next destination.
As I step outside with
my messy hair, bad breath,
blurry vision, I take a glance
and the air greets me,
another daybreak awaits.
I don't know why.
I added the same sugar,
poured from the same tin.
But it reminds me of farewells
those spoken casually,
like we wouldn't miss each other.
Like love could be scheduled.
This bitterness
it's not the coffee.
It's remembering your face only through photos
your voice buried beneath children's laughter.
A hush falls soft on waking land,
Where silver threads through silence stand,
The trees half-dream in veils of white,
Bathed in the breath of fading night.
The sun, a whisper on the hill,
Spills golden ink, yet all is still.
The world in pause, a sacred hush—
The mist moves slow, the day won't rush.
Each blade of grass wears nature's lace,
Each droplet holds the sky’s embrace.
The crows call low, their wings outspread,
Through morning's gauze, both seen and led.
The earth exhales its ghostly sigh,
And writes a verse across the sky.
In that brief spell, all time seems kissed—
By silence, light, and morning mist.
Specific Types of Good Morning Poems
Definition | What is Good Morning in Poetry?